


Kiss My Battery

by dear_monday



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Killjoys, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2011-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dear_monday/pseuds/dear_monday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After so long on the run, always watching their backs and jumping at every little fucking noise, this is <i>so good</i>. Dominant!Frank/submissive!Gerard in a dirty back alley at a sleazy wave-head party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss My Battery

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://soulascending.livejournal.com/50569.html?thread=257161) on soulascending's killjoy kink meme.

The drink is called a car bomb or a kamikaze or something equally ridiculous; Gerard neither knows nor cares. It comes in a tall, dirty glass, in layers of toxic green and radioactive orange; eye-wateringly sour and sickly sweet by turns, like drinking neon. It's revolting, but very, very alcoholic. Frank drains the last of his and slams the finger-marked glass down on the greasy bar, grimacing as it burns his throat and feeling Gerard's eyes lingering on his throat in that was that still makes his skin prickle.  
   
"C'mon, then," he says, as soon as the room stops spinning, grabbing Gerard by the arm. "Dance with me, motherfucker."  
   
His voice is rough and his pupils are blown wide with non-regulation pills (the best the wave-heads have to offer, free of charge; _anything_ for a 'joy), and Gerard feels anticipation squirm in the pit of his stomach.  
   
Frank drags him into the middle of the seething mass of dancers and dizzying colour and rhythm. The bass throbs in his ribcage and the drums shake the brightly-painted concrete under his dusty boots, and after months on end of scouring the airwaves for even the off-chance of some real music filtering tinnily through shitty, dust-filled speakers, he thinks this alone is almost enough to get him high. Frank has other ideas, though, curling sticky, inked fingers around Gerard's hips and pulling him close as the booze starts to course through his blood. The song finishes with a war-cry of feedback and the DJ starts another one – it's vaguely familiar, something with a female singer spitting venom over a filthy bass line. Gerard feels his bones humming with it and tips his head back, beginning to move against Frank. God, after so long on the run, always watching their backs and jumping at every little fucking noise, this is _so good_.  
   
One of Frank's hands slips possessively around Gerard's back and pulls him flush against him, closing the gap between them. Gerard's breath hitches with surprise, and he's suddenly hyper-aware of Frank's hands on him.  
   
"Ghoul," he murmurs warningly into Frank's ear, just loud enough for Frank to hear him over the music. "Play nice, baby. Please?"  
   
"Trying," Frank growls back, working one hand into Gerard's greasy, neon-red hair, "But that motherfucker over there can't keep his fuckin' eyes off you. You _know_ I hate that." His other hand slides down to Gerard's ass, provocative and challenging and unmistakeably spelling out _mine_. Gerard's heart rate starts to pick up; he knows it's at least a bit wrong, but the alchemy that the music and the booze and the pills work on Frank just _does_ things to him. _Good_ things. He bites his lip and leans into Frank.  
   
"Mmh, you know you got nothing to worry about," he hums, starting to roll his hips slowly against Frank's. Frank inhales sharply and responds in kind, beginning to get hard inside his jeans.  
   
"God, _look_ at you," he murmurs, mouthing at Gerard's throat. "Gets me so hot, seeing you wanting it like this. Love how you're always so _willing_ , blows my mind every fuckin' time."  
   
He runs his tongue over the sweet spot just under Gerard's jaw and Gerard lets out an involuntary gasp, tensing in Frank's arms. Blood pounds in his head like the drums and he moans, low and dirty, arching his hips forwards. And, _oh_ , yeah, this is happening. He snakes a hand down between them, fingers brushing tentatively over the bulge in the front of Frank's jeans.  
   
"Can – can we?" he swallows, cheeks burning as the neon-shot air around them starts to ripple with whispers and sidelong glances, wondering what it is about that bite of shame that gets him off like almost nothing else.  
   
Frank doesn't answer, just leans in to kiss, hard and demanding, then pulls away. "Outside. _Now_ ," he says, and threads his way quickly through the crowd while Gerard stumbles after him, his head spinning from the drinks and the noise and light and _Frank_.  
   
He pushes through the outer reaches of the crowd, the casual dancers and the wave-heads cruising for a quick-and-dirty zonerunner hookup. Just ahead of him, Frank shoves open the heavy, industrial steel door to the back alley outside. Gerard slips out after him into the cool, dark quiet of another night in Battery City.  
   
Before the door's even swung shut again, Frank's pushing him up against the dirty grey wall, his mouth hot and insistent and his hands everywhere at once. Gerard whimpers and kisses back desperately, fingers knotting in Frank's hair. Frank's mouth tastes like shitty smokes and the ever-present dust and whatever was in that nasty drink, and, God, that shouldn't be making him come apart like this. He wants more, wants to touch or be touched or just _something_ , but Frank's in charge when they're like this, so he waits, squirming under Frank's hands. At first, it was just games and the two of them daring a bit more each time, finding the best ways of getting each other off. But now... now, Gerard thinks he's starting to need this more than can possibly be safe. He gets so _tired_ of looking out for everyone and making decisions that could get them all fucking ghosted; when Frank tells him what to do and how to be, it's a relief that feels like taking his boots off at the end of the day.  
   
When Frank starts rocking his hips against Gerard's, it's suddenly all too much and Gerard lets out a loud, needy moan. He starts working at Frank's zipper, knowing Frank's probably going to get pissed off with him not waiting to be told to do it but too painfully hard to care.  
   
"Wanna – oh, _Jesus_ , Frank, wanna..." he trails off with a needy whine as Frank's tongue slips into his mouth. Frank chuckles softly, sounding unutterably dirty in the quiet of the alley.  
   
"Alright, easy, tiger." Frank pulls away, and he's flushed and wide-eyed, breathing hard, lips slick and swollen and curled into Gerard's favourite wicked grin. Gerard's never really got over the fact that it's _him_ that gets to make Frank look like that, gets to be the only one to see him like this. He doesn't understand what he ever did to deserve it. Frank catches Gerard's mouth for a quick, messy kiss.  
   
"Fuck, want your mouth on me. On your knees, babe," he murmurs, so sure that Gerard will do it, so effortlessly in control. His voice is husky from the booze, and, holy _fuck_ , Gerard's stomach drops right through the soles of his boots. Frank shifts back a bit, turning so that he's the one with his back to the wall, and Gerard drops eagerly to his knees in front of him. He whimpers softly, imagining the dirty marks on his jeans, people looking at the two of them and knowing _exactly_ what they've been doing. His hands are shaking so badly he can't even get the fucking zipper down, and Frank shudders hungrily. "Can't fuckin' wait, can you? God, so good. So fuckin' _needy_."  
   
Gerard mumbles an apology, feeling the embarrassment lighting him up from the inside out and fucking loving it. Frank physically can't tear his eyes away from Gerard, panting and frantic.  
   
"Always such a slut for me, fuck," he hums, hearing the words like they're coming out of someone else's mouth; the pills don't so much get him out of his head as switch it to autopilot for a while. Gerard finally manages to get the zipper open and yank Frank's jeans down over his hips, not wasting time on taking them off properly. He braces his hands on Frank's hips and moves to take Frank into his mouth, then hesitates, his eyes flicking up to Frank's – _can I? Is this alright?_  
   
"Go on," breathes Frank. "Wanna fuck that pretty mouth. Show me how much you want it, babe."  
   
He's vaguely aware that he sounds like the kind of bad porn that makes even _him_ cringe, but Gerard's looking up imploringly at him from under his eyelashes and, just, _fuck._ Normally, he'd tease or make him wait just for the indecently lovely noises he makes, but right now he's slightly drunk and achingly hard and he just wants Gerard's mouth on his cock sometime around _yesterday_. Gerard's breath catches, because, fuck, Frank knows him too well. He wraps a hot, dirty hand around Frank's cock, jacking him slowly as he wraps his mouth around the head. Frank moans at the slick heat, loud and filthy, knotting a hand in Gerard's hair and guiding him as his cheeks hollow.  
   
"Jesus _fuck_ , so good," Frank pants. "No idea – ungh, mother _fucker_ – how fuckin' amazing you look, down on your knees with your mouth on my dick." Fuck, he's closer than he should be; the chemicals running in his blood aren't doing anything for his stamina. Gerard moans indistinctly around his cock, taking him deeper, overloading Frank's senses and sending flashes of blinding light streaking across his vision.  
   
"S'right," he slurs, the words running together as he starts to lose control, his hips thrusting shallowly into Gerard's mouth. "Like that. Oh, _fuck_ , like _that!_ " His voice goes high and breathy as Gerard swallows around him and Frank's brain instantly drains of everything except how fucking _incredible_ this is. He doesn't know if it's Gerard or the pills or the booze or just the perfect cocktail of all three but something's just _right_ and he's flying. Gerard whines softly, sucking and bobbing his head and making the most obscene wet noises as he deepthroats Frank.  
   
Gerard's eyes skitter upwards and catch Frank's, soft and dark and fucking _pleading_ and that's what finishes him off. His hips snap forwards and he gasps out something that almost sounds like Gerard's name, seeing stars as his fingers twist convulsively in Gerard's hair. Gerard whines softly and swallows, then pulls off, flushed and breathless, hair falling over his eyes and all lit up in Frank's afterglow.  
   
Breathing raggedly, Frank grabs Gerard's hands and pulls him up, then wraps a hand around the back of his head and reels him in for a deep, dirty, open-mouthed kiss, tasting himself on Gerard's tongue.  
   
"I fucking _love_ you," he says fervently, when they come apart for air. Gerard rolls his eyes, hoarse and still breathing hard as that cockiness starts to rise again. This has been happening more and more lately, whatever it is, this, this _thing_ that happens when Frank tells him what to do, it's only ever during sex, never threatening to spill over into anything else, and that's just where it's going to stay. He grins, eyes big and wide with feigned innocence.  
   
"Aww. You're fuckin' candy floss, baby, but you don't have to tell me you love me just 'cause I sucked you off. I'd probably do that anyway, y'know."  
   
"No – really. Mean it."  
   
Gerard bites his lip and ducks his eyes, because, fuck, he can't look at Frank when he's like this, raw and so achingly _real_ and still looking like fucking sex, because it feels like someone reaching into his chest and _squeezing_. Frank doesn't push it, because it breaks his fucking heart every time this little verbal drum-loop recurs between them and Gerard looks away, but _this_ thing never seems to change, so it's good enough. Gerard shifts, adjusting his jeans, and Frank takes the hint, reaches for him, unzips him and wraps a hand around his still-straining cock. He sets up a quick, sure rhythm, spilling filth into Gerard's ear in just the way he knows never fails to get him off.  
   
"Look so good, all messed up and dirty like this. Love it when I touch you, don't you? Minute we get back to the diner, 'm gonna drag you upstairs – " he mouths softly at the spot under Gerard's ear, feeling him shudder and buck into his hand. " – gonna fuck you senseless. You like that, mmh?" He huffs a soft laugh and speeds up, twisting his wrist slightly on the upstroke. "You fuckin' _would_ and you know it. Know what that does to me, the way you just _take_ it – " Gerard moans, shameless and pornographic, and Frank shudders against him. "Careful, babe, you're gonna get me hard again. C'mon, then – come for me, know you wanna – "  
   
That's all it takes – Gerard comes with a bitten-off cry, striping Frank's already-stained T-shirt with white. He slumps into Frank's arms, spent, and for a while, there's nothing but the sounds of their breathing as their heartbeats slow again. Then,  
   
"Y'should know," Gerard murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of Frank's mouth, "I fuckin' love you too." He straightens up, pulling his jeans back up and bumping his hip against Frank's, and it's over and everything's back to almost-normal. "Now come the fuck on and put your dick away, we're going dancing."


End file.
